Ronni Griffin blogger at Fiction Groupie came up with a great idea called, 'Let's Talk Blogfest'. The rules are to post a dialogue scene from something you wrote.
My excerpt is from a novel called, The Daedelus Key, from my Intelli-Trace Series in the action/thriller genre. Intelli-Trace employees act as bounty hunters for stolen technology. They hunt down research and development projects stolen from Fortune 500 companies. From prototypes to schematics, biological samples, to computer code...if its stolen, they'll track it, steal it back, and destroy the competition's gains in the process.
Kressa is an intelligence broker bent on stealing the Deadelus Key, an algorithm rumored to be able to break military codes. The poor guy on the chair is one of the designers.
The man struggled against the restraints tying him to the chair. Afraid, he glanced around the dimly lit basement, jumping at sounds made by the water pipes and old doors.
Kressa sat in a corner of the room shrouded in shadows, observing.
“Hey,” the man called out. “Somebody better tell me what is going on.”
Kressa smiled slightly, the bravado always came first. They inevitably all yelled protests, warnings, and threats but this never lasted. Not in his experience, and he had years of interrogation experience. No, they eventually all broke. They all told him what he wanted to know. This one was no different.
Kressa’s eyes went to the light bulb hanging exposed over the captive’s chair. It flickered and went out dousing the man in momentary darkness before brightening once more. Kressa heard him gasp. Although unplanned, the effect was desirable. Kressa gathered his tools making sure to let them clink against one another.
“Who’s there?” the man asked, realizing he’d not been alone.
“My name is not important,” Kressa intoned as he walked out of the darkness. The room reeked of the man’s fear. “What is important is whether or not I believe what you say to me is the truth.”
“The truth?” The man repeated. “The truth about what?”
“The truth about the Daedelus Key,” Kressa breathed. “And to make sure we start off on the right foot. I’m going to have to understand a little about you and your limits.”
The man’s eyes widened when Kressa opened his bag and began to lay a series of pliers, picks, and bottles on the table beside the captive’s chair.
“Limits?” the man gasped.
Kressa nodded absently already lost in the smell of the lemon juice and greased tools.
“Yes, for instance,” Kressa said and showed the man a screwdriver sharpened to a razor’s edge. He positioned it just to the right of the man’s kneecap and rested a malet against the handle. He looked at him with a questioning raise of his eyebrows. “How long do you think before this makes you scream?”
That was my entry for Let's Talk Blogfest. I hope you take a look at the other great pieces over at Fiction Groupie.
Photograph by Monica Arellano-Ongpin, Uploaded on March 14, 2009.